dirty valentine
by sheriff stilinski
Summary: We're shooting the scene where I swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again. BeckTori


Title: dirty valentine

Summary: We're shooting the scene where I swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again. BeckTori

Author's Note: I'm not going to lie, I love this piece. I want to keep working on it forever, but alas, I have essays to write! The middle part reminds me so much of one I wrote three (!) years ago called "a week in the life of beck oliver." GOD, I'm old. ANYWAY, please, enjoy. I know the remaining Victorious fandom tends to hate BeckTori, but I'm still a sucker, years later, and I'd love to hear some stuff from you guys.

Credit: Title and Summary come from "Dirty Valentine" by Richard Siken. Tremendous writer with oodles and oodles of talent.

Dedication: Also, as was "a week in the life of beck oliver," this ended up being for _seemslikeaporno_, who I miss terribly and have not done anything to stop missing. Irene is for you, let's hope that one day, Tori will introduce her to Andre and they will be terribly cute.

/

In one reality, he knocks on the door and there's no answer.

It takes him a few moments to notice the sign on her door, "We're out! Also, FYI, out of nipple stickers."

He wonders why he didn't notice how fresh the words were, the fume still radiating from the white board, the entire trip back home.

Beck smokes a cigarette with the lighter in his pocket as he drives, but only tastes the acrid taste of loneliness and Expo marker.

/

In another reality, he knocks on her door and she flings open the door.

Her nipples are apparent through her shift dress and it's the first thing she thinks when she opens her dorm room door, after her mouth already assumes it's her roommate coming to help her finish getting ready.

"I need your nipple stickers," Tori says, and then registers that the five foot ten boy in her doorway is, in fact, not her five foot Asian roommate, Irene.

Beck coughs into his sleeve (still a leather jacket, Tori notes through the rush of _oh my gods_ in her head) and smiles, sort of.

"I'm not really sure if I have those on me," he says, right fingers dancing on the zippered edge of his pocket.

"Uhm," Tori says, and then touches her lips like a muscle memory.

"Uhm," Beck agrees, and then actually smiles this time, eyes warming. "Hi."

"I hate to sound… I mean, uh. I'm just, uhm, like…"

"I know. It was random," he says, biting his lip, like he can already tell random is not right word for traveling 1,973 (it's not like Tori checked) miles from Los Angeles to Michigan and showing up at the door of your ex (ex?) _something's_ dorm room.

"It's Valentine's Day," Tori says, like this explains anything, and then shoots herself in the foot metaphorically. "How are you?"

Beck's fingers shoot into his hair, "Uhm, you know. I'm okay. Tired, I mean, but, like, okay. I guess."

Tori's head begins to nod uncontrollably as a blush creeps up her curved spine (too many nights studying for midterms in the library) to her ears, "That's good! Good that you're good. I mean, okay. You guess. I'm also that too - good, I mean. Okay, I mean."

Irene makes her appearance from behind Beck, always appearing spontaneously and, yet, at the perfect time. Tori almost doesn't notice her friend from behind Beck's leather clad arm, but Irene's signature snort begs her notice.

"God, Tor," Irene says, scooting around Beck's arm, "Nipples, much?"

Tori's blush finally invades her cheeks as she crosses her arms over. Beck tries not to look by staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"Irene," Tori hisses, "This is Beck. My - my, uhm."  
>Beck bites his lip again and Tori feels like dying right then and there wearing her nipple showing dress. Bury her in it! Death is approaching!<p>

"I'm Tori's," Beck says, trying to find the word (Tori thinks, random may fit this time), but then trails off, leaving Tori in a blush induced sweat.

Irene's eyebrows shoot into her hairline at the implication, smirk already curving.

"Ooooh, you're that Beck," she says, before Tori can nipple sticker her friend's mouth shut. "Don't you live in LA? Like two thousand miles away from here?"

"1,973, actually," Beck and Tori say at the same time, and Irene's smirk only slopes farther and farther on her face.

"Interesting," Irene says, grabbing her clutch from the bed. "Although I'd love to watch what unfolds between you two, I believe that Tori and I were going to go to a club with friends tonight." Irene pauses, and Tori closes her eyes in horror, "However, it looks like Tori has a more interesting prospect, so. No nipple stickers for you, missy."

Irene blows through them (actor's note: Beck's mouth agape, Tori literally cringing with embarrassment) and smiles at the door.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you two. Dirty valentines are always _quite_ fun."

Irene waltzes away in her heels, the five inches making both Beck and Tori feel feet smaller than they are, and silence falls over them.

"Oh my God," Tori says, finally saying what's on her mind. "Oh my God. I'm so - she's not usual - okay, she really… Do you want to come in?"

Beck holds up his hands, "I'm not here to, like… I'm not. I didn't mean to invade your plans. I mean, you could probably still catch up to her, if you want to. I really don't mind."

Tori smiles for the first time that night, "If I went with her, you'd probably hear about the reunion on the news, so, come inside, okay?"

Beck walks in and Tori suddenly realizes how small her dorm room is. Her bed is a twin and, suddenly, this seems like the only important thing to focus on. Her mouth is dry. She might still be blushing and… God, are her nipples even more obvious now?

Beck looks around the room before sitting on the floor, cross legged, hands pulling his legs in close to his body. He looks at the dust nestling in the holes in the floor for a few long seconds before looking up at her.

"I'm, uhm, not here to deliver you a dirty valentine," he says, putting this phrase in air quotes (Tori doesn't think she's ever loved anyone more - no, damn). "I just thought… I thought…"

"Hi," Tori says, sitting across from him.

Beck swallows, "Uhm, your - your nipples." He blushes three shades dark.

Tori almost chokes, but then, starts to laugh.

"Oh my God," she says, snorting. "You're being so _awkward_, I think I might pee."

His eyebrow raises (Tori almost pouts, she's _always_ wanted to do that) in protest, "Hey, you started it, okay! You're the one who was 'uhming' and babbling and, generally, being awkward. Also, who says they're going to pee out loud, that's just." Beck struggles for a word and throws up his hands, "That's… That's just plain _weird_."

Tori laughs so hard that she clutches her stomach in pain, "For a minute, I thought you were going to say random again." She gasps with a laugh, "I think I'm having a hernia." Her hand sweeps the air in a claw-like position, "No, I'm definitely having a hernia."

"What's wrong with random?" Beck says, crossing his arms. The motion reminds both of them that her nipples are very visible through her dress and the both of them blush before laughing all over again.

"What's… wrong… with random?" Tori says, huffing out the words. "No one… no one randomly comes… _drops by_… two thousand miles… on _Valentine's Day_."

Sadly, Beck is much better at regaining his breath, "Who asks a boy, who they haven't seen for ages, for nipple stickers when they see them again? Who talks about nipples so casually like that?!"

"Please… it's not like… not like you haven't… seen them before."

Silence falls upon them, slowly. Tori's breath starts to even out. She bites her lip, this time.

"Uhm," Beck says, face paling. "I mean, I guess. That's, uhm, true."

Tori covers her chest again and Beck does not bother looking away this time. He drags his eyes up to hers after three seconds too long, his lower lip dropped.

Tori licks her lips and, internally, bashes herself in the head. "I need vodka."

Beck's eyes light up ten thousand colors and it takes her all of her strength not to kick him in the leg to tell him to stop. "Do you have rum?"

"Irene must have some," Tori says. When she finds the Malibu, she giggles, "I mean, it's not, like. Irene likes the fruity stuff. Is it okay?"

Beck nods, and a wisp of a smile returns on his lips, "Yeah, that's fine."

She smiles and pours them cups of Malibu, cringing because she knows Irene is going to either demand funds (Tori still wishes being strapped for cash was a college myth) or waggle her eyebrows suggestively until Tori has to clobber her with one of Irene's stray stilettos. She holds the bottle in her right hand and balances the two cups in her left and sits down across from Beck again.

"Things you learn at college," Beck says, grabbing their cups from her hands, and grins at her.

She laughs and gingerly takes her drink from him. After a long sip, she stretches her legs out in front of her. Her toes almost touch Beck's knee and he just slightly flinches from her touch.

Tori's voice is threatening to break from such a simple evasion of skin contact, and yet, she asks, "Do you want to listen to some music, or something?"

"Uhm, sure," Beck says, nodding, before taking a swig. "Do you want me to put some on?"

Tori nods and watches him take off his leather jacket to grab his phone from his pocket. His lighter falls out with it. It's the same from the last time she saw him and it only makes the lump in her throat bigger. His phone is bright with messages, but he ignores them to find the perfect song to break the awkwardness between them.

"Sooooo," Tori says, flexing her toes. "You've been okay. How's LA without me?"

"Lonely," he says, without looking up from his phone. He pauses in his search and looks at her. "Uhm. I mean… Yeah, lonely."

Tori has missed Beck's bursts of honesty. It's one of the things she misses most about home, other than the beach and the sun. The lump in her throat has become a tumor and it's hard to speak around.

"Oh," she says, not trusting herself to say anything else.

Beck finally finds a song, one that makes her bones ache with the feeling of summer and having the sand beneath her feet. He looks at her with dark eyes.

"It's Mac DeMarco," he says, quietly. "I can change it, if you want."

"No," Tori insists. "It's lovely. What's it called?"

"Chamber of Reflection." He sits next to her now, pulling his legs into his chin. "I listen to this a lot at home. My roommate hates it."

"Not a good roommate?"

Beck sighs, tracing his finger on his knee, "He's fine. He called me Guitar Boy for two weeks."

Tori giggles and takes a sip of her drink, prompting Beck to do the same, "Guessing you weren't too excited about that nickname."

"You're right," Beck says, letting his loose smile dangle on his face.

He looked so carefree, for a moment, Tori noticed. Then, she noticed the bags under his eyes and the thinness of his arms, the jagged ends of his hair.

"Your hair needs a cut," she says, absentmindedly fingering his locks.

"I know," Beck grumbles. "It's so shit looking."

"I can cut it if you want," Tori offers, even though they both know she's not much good with straight lines.

"I'll pass," Beck says, turning his body to smile at her.

"Probably best," Tori says, then suddenly catches sight of his lips and his dropped lower lip (She had always loved how easy it was to read Beck's body language, but now, it leaves her confused), and stops talking.

The silence that falls between them this time is finally comfortable. Yet, Tori can't help but notice all the cues of something she had long thought was meant to be put away in a drawer.

"I really missed you," Beck says, fingers leaving his knee to trace her jawline.

"It's Valentine's Day. Everyone gets lonely," Tori says, biting her lip, leaning forward without thought.

When they're inches apart, his eyes get dark again, "Do you get lonely?"

/

In another reality, he knocks on the door and she flings it wide open.

Irene is behind her, admiring the boy in their doorway, "No fair! You got yourself a dirty valentine!"

Tori looks at Beck for a few long seconds. He plays with his lighter in his pocket, shoulders hunched. His eyes are dark. Her mouth is agape. When she recollects herself, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him.

As Irene scoots around them, she rolls her eyes so hard they might roll out of their sockets, but laughs. "I'm guessing you won't be needing those nipple stickers, Tor."

Tori gives her friend the finger and kisses Beck so long and hard that she thinks she will never taste loneliness again.

/


End file.
